“I wouldn’t, sir,” interposed Christopher.
“Why?” I asked, looking up in surprise.
He only regarded me in silence. At first I thought that Christopher’s singular penetration had discovered that Beelo was lighter of color than a full-blooded native and was delicately warning me not to invade the carefully guarded secret. I recalled the story that I had told Beelo, and my suspicions as to the purity of his native blood. And what harm could come if I did learn?
Then the truth came upon me with the overwhelming force of long cumulation. His conduct in the tunnel, his sweetness and gentleness, the strange conclusion of the scene with Annabel when they had met,—a thousand memories of things that had passed unheeded in the stress of dangers,—came as a blinding light. I do not know when Christopher learned the truth, but in his chivalry he would have seen me go blind to the grave without a word from him in betrayal of Beelo’s secret.
The shock stunned me, and my head was bowed in reverence. When I again looked into the patient face, now having for me so sweet and touching a pathos, the deep-blue eyes were looking up into mine; then they turned to Christopher, and all about. The old mischievous, bantering smile parted the perfect lips. The eyes again sought mine.
“Choseph! It’s fine to be dead!” But the voice held a different music from that of the lad whom I had loved and who was now gone forever.
CHAPTER XIII.—Preparation for the Crisis.
In the Enemy’s Land. The Weird Light on the Valley Wall. Mr. Vancouver. A Visit with Lentala. She Tells a Secret Which I Already Know.